HEAH  BE  VOICES  CALLIN' 


MARY  LOUISE  GAINES 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


V.  H.   SKAGGS, 

r  KO..&.AJ& 


I  Heah  de  Voices  CallirT 


MARY    LOUISE    GAINES 


1916 

BYRD  PRINTING  Co. 
ATLANTA 


Copyright   1916 
By  MARY  LOUISE  GAINES 


35V  <5 
G&7 


DEDICATION 


as 

00 

TO  THE  YOUNG  WOMEN  OP  THE  SOUTH 
WHO  HOLD  WITH  IMPERISHABLE  DEVOTION  TO 
*•  THE    IDEALS    OF    THEIR    GRANDFATHERS    AND 

in 

W  GRANDMOTHERS,  WHO  WERE  THE  UNEXCELLED 

§  EXPONENTS    OF     ALL    THAT     WAS     HIGH     AND 

NOBLE  AND  GOOD  IN   THE  OLD   SOUTH 


8 

i 

-M 

X 


461138 


CONTEXTS. 

Foreword   7 

Introduction  by  Mr.  Knight  9 

A  Vista 15 

I  Heah  de  Voices  Call  in ' 19 

De  Battle  uv  de  Crater 23 

Dem  'Swadin '  Ways 29 

An'  He  Mended  de  Gyarden  Wall   33 

Then  Mammy  Holds  My  I  land   37 

How  Une'  Caesar  Got  Drunk  Onbeknownst  to 

Hisse'f 41 

De  Ole  Black  Mammy  53 

De  Comin'  Thoo  uv  Peter  Crump 59 

"Queen  Huldy" 67 

Holding  the  Vision 91 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 

A  Vista  14 

"Unc'  Nat" 18 

"Sam" 22 

Then  Mammy  Holds  My  Hand   36 

"Aunt  Mary" 38 

"Unc'   Caesar"    40,  45 

De  Ole  Black  Mammy 52 

Yo'  Aiir  No  Qual'ty  Nigger   55 

G'way  from  Heah 64 

The  Forest  .  .  90 


FOREWORD 

IN  presenting  these    scenes  and    portraits   of 
a  far  and  beautiful  time  I  wish  to  say  that 
each  one  is  from  life.     These  faithful  old 
servants    were    from    Virginia,    South    Carolina, 
Georgia,  and  Mississippi.     A  few  are  still  living. 
Some  have  recently  passed  away,   and  the  feet  of 
those  who  remain  are  even  now  in  the  edge  of 
the  stream. 

They  were  the  product  of  the  example  and  teach 
ing  of  the  gentle,  brave,  true  men  and  women 
whose  characters  have  never  been  excelled,  and 
whose  graces  have  never  been  equalled. 

And  while  we  enshrine  them  in  our  hearts  and 
embalm  them  in  our  memories,  let  us  tread  the 
same  pathway,  whether  it  be  flower-strewn  or  set 
with  thorns. 

MARY  LOUISE  GAINES. 


Agnes  Scott  College, 

Decatur,  Ga.,  December  1,  1916. 


INTRODUCTION  BY  AIR.  KNIGHT 


Lucian  Lamar  Knight,  Georgia's  State  historian, 
has  written  the  introduction.  His  appreciation  of  the 
author's  work  is  couched  in  the  following  strong  par 
agraphs  : 

This  little  volume  of  verse  is  sure  of  a  warm  wel 
come  from  a  discriminating  public.  One  needs  only 
to  glance  hurriedly  through  its  charming  pages  to 
find  that,  while  diminutive  in  size,  it  contains  the  vital 
elements  of  a  real  literature.  Wit,  humor,  pathos, 
imagination,  wisdom,  melody,  all  are  packed  into  a 
space  of  dainty  proportions.  In  an  age.  the  chief 
characteristic  of  whose  literary  product  is  mere 
bulk,  it  is  refreshing  to  encounter  this  little  vol 
ume,  which  contains  in  essence  so  much  distilled 
beauty,  which  reflects  in  miniature  so  much  of  a  van 
ished  world. 

It  is  something  more  than  a  mere  cluster  of  songs 
in  dialect.  Both  the  historian's  pen  and  the  artist's 
brush  have  been  employed  by  the  author.  She  visu- 


10         I    HE  AH    DE    VOICES    CALLIN' 

ali/es  the  past  with  true  fidelity  to  life.  Once  more 
we  find  ourselves  in  the  old  South  of  romance  and  of 
song.  We  hear  again  the  plantation  melodies.  Be 
fore  us  looms  the  stately  old  Southern  mansion,  back 
of  which,  as  in  the  dead  days,  are  grouped,  in  a  pic 
turesque  fashion,  the  slave  quarters.  Reaching  away 
to  the  horizon,  extend  the  white  fields  of  fleecy  cotton, 
all  a-teem  with  industrious  labor,  all  vibrant  with  the 
airs  of  a  simple  but  song-loving  people.  Her  charac 
ters  are  not  mechanical.  She  endows  each  with  an  in 
dividuality,  separate  and  distinct.  Her  work  is  con 
vincing  because  artistic.  In  the  molds  of  dialect,  she 
preserves  the  quaint  humor,  the  droll  philosophy,  and 
tlic  unfailing  wit  of  the  old-time  Southern  darkies. 
The  relationship,  tender  and  beautiful,  existing  be 
tween  white  and  black,  under  the  old  feudal  regime, 
is  sketched  with  a  loving  hand.  The  old  black  mam 
my  lives  again  in  these  pages,  her  laughter  as  con 
tagious  and  her  heart  as  loyal  as  ever.  One  almost 
forgets,  in  reading  this  little  book,  that  the  days  so 
charmingly  recalled  by  the  author  belong  to  a  past 
whose  memories  are  fast  fading,  and  that  over  the 
death-strewn  field  of  Appomattox  the  gentle  rains  of 
more  than  half  a  century  have  fallen. 


INTRODUCTION  BY  MR.  KNIGHT          11 

There  is  not  a  single  note  of  bitterness  to  be  de 
tected  in  the  author's  work,  not  a  trace  of  sinister 
sectionalism.  It  is  all  sweet  and  wholesome  like  moun 
tain  air.  Only  the  beautiful  things  are  recalled.  It  is 
also  free  from  local  obscurities  and  limitations.  It  is 
marred  by  no  provincialism.  The  author  is  both  in 
and  of  the  South.  Born  in  the  Old  Dominion,  a 
daughter  of  one  of  its  patrician  families,  much 
of  her  life  has  been  spent  in  Georgia.  Her  range 
of  observation  has,  therefore,  been  wide.  The  life 
which  she  portrays  is  not  peculiar  to  any  one  isolated 
section,  but  is  typical  of  the  South  as  a  whole.  The 
ante-bellum  regime  is  reflected  as  in  a  mir 
ror.  Yet  all  within  the  limits  of  a  single  little  duo 
decimo.  How  much  of  the  soul  of  Dixie  is  packed 
into  this  volume — how  much  of  its  treasured  lore — 
even  as  a  drop  of  dew  contains  in  its  chemistry  the 
ingredients  of  an  ocean. 

Such  a  volume  will  lend  itself  readily  to 
programs  for  Southern  evenings  in  schools  and  col 
leges,  in  women's  clubs,  and  in  literary  societies.  Our 
Northern  friends  who  desire  a  genuine  bit  of  the  old 
South  will  here  find  it ;  while  those  of  our  own  number, 


12         I     HEAH     DE     VOICES     CALLIN' 


who  wish  to  keep  in  vital  touch  with  the  past  and  to 
hear  its  living  voices,  will  find  in  this  little  book  a 
faithful  guide  into  the  land  of  Southern  yesterdays,  a 
truthful  interpreter  of  its  ideals,  and  a  sweet  minstrel 
of  its  memories. 

LUCIAN  LAMAR  KNIGHT. 

Atlanta,  Georgia, 

December  1,  1916. 


A  VISTA 


A     VISTA. 


A  VISTA 

Far  thro'  the  fields  of  bending  grass, 

Sweet  odors,  lingering,  pass 

From  out  the  spicy  pines  of  night 

And  splintered  aisles  of  light, 

0  'er  bands  of  sun  and  further  shades 

Of  ever  deepening  glades 

Hence,  to  resplendent  wide-spread  domes, 

Light's  unencumbered  homes. 

0  Spirit  of  a  radiant  Past ! 

Thy  fragrant  garments  cast 

O'er  suns  and  chequered  glooms  of  space 

With  tender,  quiet  grace, 

And  faithful  dusky  forms  enfold, 

With  souls  of  larger  mold. 


I  HEAH  DE  VOICES  CALLIN' 


•UNO'     NAT." 


I  HEAR  DE  VOICES  CALLIN' 


Dese  eyes  dey  gittin'  dimmer,  I  ain'  see  fur  away; 
Ole  Marster  des  a-callin,  it  mus'  be  break  o'  day; 
I  see  des  like  de  pic'shur,  how  clear  de  ole  Ian'  lay. 

De  stars  is  des  a-winkin'  an'  de  dew  a-shinin'  bright, 
I  heah  de  hosses  stompin '  in  de  meadow  on  de  right, 
An'  de  cows  fum  out  de  low-groun',  whar  I  pen  um 
fer  de  night. 

An'  dar's  ole  Mistis'  chillun,  a-playin'  in  de  sun, 
Dere  little  snow-w'ite  footses  a-shinin'  es  dey  run: 
An '  w  'en  de  shadders  f allin ',  I  sho '  ter  tote  'em  home. 

Dem  chillun  callin'  sof'ly,  dey '11  ketch  me  roun'  de 

knees ; 

I  spea'  it  des  de  river  a-rollin*  wid  de  breeze, 
An'  de  win'   fum  out   de  valley  a-creepin'  thoo   de 

trees. 

I  heah  de  many  voices  of  de  fo  'kes  I  useter  kno ' ; 

Tt  seem  like  dey  mus'  want  me;  dey  did  so  long  ago; 

Ef  I  hoi'  my  href  an'  lissen.  dey  je.s  inside  de  do'. 


20         I     HKAII     DE     VOICED     CALLIN" 

Dis  worl'  is  done  got  lonesome,  I  ain'  keer  much  Id- 
stay; 

I  gwine  ter  fin'  ole  Mistis,  she  say  she  lead  de  way. 
Ter  whar'  dar's  no  mo'    trouble,    an'    de    light    is 
always  day. 

I  heah  de  angels  callin ',  I  heah  dem  thoo  de  stars ; 
I  wunner  is  dey  ready  ter  let  me  thoo  de  bars ; 
Dese  clo'es  do',  dey  ain'  fatten,  dey  ain'  like  what 
dey  wears. 

I  prays  an '  I  'm  a-singin '  dis  song  heah  all  alone, 
In  dis  ole  cheer  a-settin',  an'  my  work  is  mos'ly  done, 
Dat  de  good  Lawd  up  in  Heaben  ud  come  an'  tek  me 
home. 

Ole  Mistis,  she  up  yonder,  all  dressed  in  pearly  white, 
Her  gyarments  es  a-floatin'  acrost  my  failin'  sight; 
She'll  watch  ter  see  me  comin',  an'  she  sho'  ter  hoi' 
de  light. 

An '  de  Lawd  (hit  cum  fum  glory.  Tie  kno'  I 's  ole  an '  po\ 
An'  de  ones  dat  useter  teach  me  es  jes  gone  on  befo'. 
But  de  Hook  say  cf  I  trus'  Him.  He'll  nuver  slid  <ledo\ 


The  author  has  written  beautiful  and  most  appealing  music, 
with  chorus,  to  this  song.  Contralto  solo  and  arranged  also  for 
male  quartet.  White-Smith  Music  Publishing  Co.,  Boston,  Mass. 


DE  BATTLE  UV  DE  CRATER 


•SAM." 


DE  BATTLE  UV  DE  CRATER 


When  the  Southern  Confederacy  was  in  its  last 
throes  the  government  considered  the  question  of  put 
ting  into  the  army  a  large  number  of  negroes,  prom 
ising  them  freedom  after  the  war.  Some  said  they 
would  not  fight,  others  said  they  would  desert  to  the 
enemy.  "But,"  said  John  B.  Gordon,  "as  a  matter 
of  fact,  so  great  was  the  loyalty  of  those  old-time 
body-servants,  in  thousands  of  cases  they  risked  their 
lives  and  brought  their  young  masters  off  the  field  of 
battle  wounded  or  dead." 

Old  Sam  belonged  to  a  South  Carolina  gentleman. 
He  went  into  the  army  as  the  body-servant  of  his  two 
young  masters,  and  was  an  eye-witness  of  the  ' '  Battle 
of  the  Crater,"  Petersburg,  Virginia. 

'Twuz  down  in  Souf  Ca'lina, 

By  de  ole  plantation  wellr 
Dat  ole  Marster  stood  dat  mawnin' 

Wen  he  spoke  dat  las'  farewell. 


24         I     HE  AH     DE     VOICES     CALL1N' 


His  eyes  wuz  dim  an'  misty, 
An'  he  nuver  made  no  noise, 

Des  raise  his  han'  to  Heaben, 
Say,  "Sam,  tek  keer  o'  de  boys!" 

Dat's  de  onliest  wu'd  he  tole  me, 
Ease  he  knode  I  'd  do  my  part, 

But  to  see  dem  boys  a-leavin' 
Des  broke  ole  Marster's  heart. 

His  head  wuz  white  es  cotton, 
An'  his  step,  it  monstus  slow, 

I  feared  he  cud'n  stan'  it — 
But  he  tole  dem  boys  to  go. 

Dey  set  up  proud  an'  han'som' 
On  dem  bosses,  whut  I  broke, 

Dey  game  right  den  fer  battle, 
An '  dey  nuver  min '  de  smoke. 

Twuz  de  battle  uv  de  Crater, 
An'  I  staid  back,  me  an'  Ben. 

An'  I  belt  eight  head  o'  bosses, 
Fer  de  Gunnel,  an'  de  men. 


DE     BATTLE     UV    DE     CRATER         25- 

We  heah'd  de  cannon  boomin', 

An'  see  de  shot  an'  shell. 
I  prayed  de  Lawd  to  lissen, 

An'  keep  'em  live  and  well. 

Den  de  earf  tor'  up  so  sudden 

An'  I  ain'  kno'  nuffin  mo', 
But   de   hosses    des   a-trompin', 

Whar    dar   ain'   no   stable   flo'. 

De  smoke  wuz  liftm"*  slowly, 

An'   de   sun   a-settin'   red. 
An'  all  acrost  de  meaders, 

Wuz  de  dyin'  an'  de  dead. 

I  searched  acrost  dat  meader, 
An'  whar  'twuz  steep  an'  hilly, 

An'  down  amongst  de  shadders, 
An'  dar  I  foun'  Marse  Billy. 

His  head  wuz  on  his  elbow, 

An'  he  look  so  still  an'  sweet, 
I   say,    ' '  Good   Lawd    in   Heaben ! 

De  chile  is  fas'  asleep. 


I     HEAH     DE     VOICES     CALL1N' 


'He  done  wo'  out  vvid  fightiii', 
An'  he  des  want  Sam  to  come 

An   fetch   a  cup   o'   watah, 
An'  talk  'bout  goin'  home." 

An'  den  I  draw'd  up  nearder. 

His  han's  an'  head  wuz  col?. 
An'   his   pretty   curls   all   bloody, 

Whut  Mistis  said  wuz  gol'. 

I  hid  him  'neaf  de  pine  tree, 
Whar  de  win'  wuz  sighin'  low, 

An'  I  clipped  a  curl  fer  Mistis 
Des  befo'  I  let  him  go. 

De  years  is  passin'  slowly, 
An'  I  sometimes  pine  an'  fret. 

I  done  got  ole  an'  lonesome, 
Hut  I  see  Marse  Billy  yet. 

I  wakes  up  in  de  moonlight. 

An'  I  heahs  de  win'  an'  noise, 
An'  I  heah  ole  Marster  callin' 
S;iy.  "Sam.  tek  keer  o'  de  boys." 


DEM  'SWADIN'  WAYS 


DEM  'SWADIN'  WAYS 


Yas,  suh,  Marse  Johnny,  he  wuz  tooken  pris'ner, 
but  I  say  to  ole  Mistis,  "Don'  you  grieve  'bout  dat 
boy,  he  heap  better  off  dar  in  de  prison  den  ef  he 
out  in  de  fiel'  wid  de  bullets  poppin'  at  'ira,  an'  he 
ain'  gwine  stay  dar  long,  kase  he  got  de  'swadin'est 
ways  eveh  I  see,  he  fool  de  v'ey  heart  outen  dem 
Yankees."  An'  so  'twuz. 

Suh?    Yo'  ax  me  'bout  Marse  Johnny, 

Whut  dey  shet  up  in  de  fote? 
Dey    'lowed  he  daid,  er  drownded, 

Kase  dat  wuz  de  repote. 

I  knode  dat  boy  all  oveh, 

I  knode  him  thoo  an'  thoo, 
Kase  we  wuz  raise'   togedder, 

An'  played  an'  hunted,  too. 

We   'rastled  in  de  sunshine, 

An'  dance  de  jig  at  night, 
An'  sot  de  traps  fer  rabbits, 

An'  cotch   'em,   'fo'   't\vuz  light. 


30         I     HE  AH     DE     VOICES     CALLIN' 


We  rid  de  bosses  double. 

An'    fished    wid    crooked   pins. 

An'    fool    ole    Marster   scan 'Ions, 
An'  got  wholloped  fer  our  sins. 

Dat's  so,  dey  tuk  him  pris'ner. 

But  dey  did'n  keep  him  long. 
His  ways  wuz  des  dat  'swadin', 

'Fo'  dey  knode  it,  he  wuz  gone. 


AN'  HE  MENDED  DE  GYARDEN 
WALL 


AN'  HE  MENDED  DE  GYARDEN  WALL 


When  Lee  surrendered  at  Appomattox  the  war 
was  over.  Business  was  paralyzed.  The  social  fabric 
was  in  ruins.  A  prominent  firm  in  the  North  offered 
General  Lee  a  large  remuneration  if  he  would  allow 
his  name  to  be  used  in  their  business.  England  pre 
sented  her  country  as  an  asylum  for  his  bleeding 
heart,  and  broken  fortunes — but  he  refused  them*  all. 
and  without  animosity  and  without  bitterness  he  sat 
down  with  the  pitiful  sum  of  fifteen  hundred  dollars 
a  year  as  president  of  Washington  and  Lee  University 
to  lead  the  remnant  of  the  splendid  young  men  of  the 
South  in  building  their  garden  wall. 

Wen  dat  awful  wah  wuz  oveh, 
An'  Marse  Jeems  an'  me  got  back, 

Dey  sho'  wuz  glad  to  see  us. 
Kase  things  wuz  gwine  to  rack. 

He  hung  his  ole  gray  cap, 

An'  his  sode  up,  plain  to  view, 

An '  ole  Mistis  set  dar  weepin ' 
Fer  joy,  an'  sorrer,  too. 


34         I     HE  AH     DE     VOICES     CALLIX' 


We  tole  about  de  marchin', 
An'  de  beatiii'  uv  de  drum, 

An'  de  boys  dat  went  in  wiv'  us 
An'  '11  nuver  mo'  cum  home. 

Den  young  Marster,  he  got  res 'less, 
Kase  he  ain'  kno'  whut  to  do, 

He  miss  de  smell  uv  battle, 
An'  de  camp-fire  shinin'  thoo. 

I  foun'   'im  des  at  daylight, 
An'  he  look  so  slim  an'  tall. 

Say,  "Tom,  des  gimme  de  hammah, 
I'm  mendin'  de  gyarden  wall." 

"Yes,  Mother,"  he  say  to  Mistis, 

"I'll  do  whuteveh  I  see, 
Like  de  bigges'  man  in  dis  country— 

An'  dat  Marse  Robbut  Lee. 

"We  see  'im  in  de  battle, 
We  follow  his  leadin'  blin'; 

An'  whareveh  he  giv'  de  signal, 
We  kep'  up  wid  de  line." 

I  sets  heah  in  dis  cabin, 
Twel  I'heahs  de  bugle  call, 

But  Marse  Jeems  he  still  a-wukkin', 
A-mendin'  de  gyarden  wall. 


"Marse  Jeems,"   Lt.  James  N.   McFarland    of    Staunton,     Va. 
Stonewall   Brigade. 


THEN  MAMMY  HOLDS  MY 
HAND 


THEN  MAMMY  HOLDS  MY  HAND 


When  lovers  throng,  insistent  near, 
And  fate  uncertain  stands, 

With  balanced  scales  and  silken  thread. 
Then  Mammy  holds  my  hand. 

When  Mother's  guiding  voice  no  more 

I  hear  across  the  strand, 
And  life  seems  but  a  tangled  web, 

Then  Mammy  holds  my  hand. 

And  should,  perchance,  my  tender  feet 

Approach  the  river  sands, 
And  voices  call  beyond  the  flood, 

Then  Mammy '11  hold  my  hand. 


461138 


'AUNT    MARY." 


How  Unc'   Caesar  Got   Drunk 
Onbeknownst  to  Hisse'f 


"UNC'    CAESAR." 
'Long  cum  ole  Satan  a-carryin '  dat  good  smell. 


HOW  UNC'   CAESAR  GOT  DRUNK 
ONBEKNOWNST   TO    HISSE'F 


"Yes'm,  ain'  I  nuver  done  tole  yo'  'bout  de  time 
dat  ole  Unc'  Caesar  got  drunk  onbeknownst  to  his- 
se'f  ?  Dat  wuz  de  owdashusest  thing  evah  I  see  an^ 
we  mos'  put  'im  outen  de  chu'ch  fer  it,  too.  Well,  'way 
long  in  de  yearly  part  uv  de  summer  ole  Mistis  had 
done  made  a  'hole  heap  o'  blackbe'y  wine,  an'  one 
day  she  cum  out  ter  de  kitchen  an'  say,  'Ce'ly,  hit's 
'bout  time  we  wuz  rack 'in  off  dat  wine  an'  puttin'  it 
in  sum  bottles.'  So  I  went  on  down  to  de  cella'  an' 
brung  up  de  jimmy-jon,  a  gret  big  'un,  des  full  o' 
good  smellin'  wine.  We  rack'  hit  off  in  a  heap  o' 
bottles,  an'  sum  in  de  big  glass  decanters  whut  sets. 
all  de  time  on  de  side-bode  in  de  dinin'-room.  W'en 
we  wuz  done  uv  co'se  dey  wuz  a  'hole  passel  o' 
drugs  in  de  bottom  uv  de  jimmy-jon.  'Bout  dat  time 
ole  Unc'  Caesar,  whut  wuz  choppin'  wood  at  de  wood 
pile,  cum  'long  ter  git  a  drink  o'  watah,  leas 'ways, 
dat  whut  he  say  he  cum  fuh.  Sune's  he  cum  in  de 


42         I     IIEAII     DE     VOICES     CALL  IN" 

kitchen  he  say,  'Mistis,  please  give  dis  po'  ole  black 
niggah  sum  o'  clem  good  drugs,  jes'  a  haffen  a'  cup 
ful,  dey  do  smell  so  oncomrnon  good,  an'  I  don'  feel 
so  pow'full  well  nohow  dis  inawnin'.'  An  Mistis,  she 
says,  'Sut'ney,  Caesar,  yo'  kin  hev  sum,  jes'  set  down 
by  de  table  an'  Ce'ly  will  give  it  to  yo'.'  1  gin'  'im  a 
"hole  lot  in  de  tin  cup,  an'  Mistis  she  went  on  in  de 
house,  an'  she  ain'  'spishum  nuttin',  kase  she  mighty 
good  chu'ch  ?oornan. 

" 'Twuz  a  wa'm,  lazy  kin'  uv  a  day,  an  Unc' 
Caesar  he  set  dar  a  long  time  enjoyin'  uv  hisse'f  an' 
a-drinkin'  uv  his  drugs.  Presn'y  he  git  up  an'  he 
says,  'Hit's  gittin'  too  warm  in  heah  fer  me,  an'  I 
b  'lieve  I  '11  go  outen  de  back  do '  an '  set  under  de  wal 
nut  trees  whar  de  win'  blows.' 

"I  went  on  'renchin'  out  de  jimmy-jon  an'  de 
udder  things  an'  po'ed  the  res'  uv  de  drugs  all  into  de 
troff  des'  outside  de  back  kitchen  do'.  I  heah'd  de 
little  pigs  an'  de  tukkeys  cum  a-runnin',  an'  1  say  ter 
m's'f,  'Dey  likes  hit.  too.'  I  kep'  on  stirrin'  'romf 
dar,  gittin'  busy,  an'  torreckly  I  heah  sumpin'  an' 
look  out  de  doah  an'  dar  wuz  de  beatenest  sight  dat 
eveh  I  see,  'fo'  de  Lawd !  Unc'  Caesar  wu/  tryin'  ter 


HOW     UNO'     CAESAR     GOT     DRUNK     43 


cum  up  de  hill,  but  dem  drugs  had  done  flew'd  ter 
his  haid,  an'  he  des'  a-fallin '  all  'roun'.  De  tukkeys 
an'  de  little  pigs  wuz  doin'  de  ve'y  same  way.  De 
tukkeys  'ud  drag  dey  wings  an'  spin  'roun  an'  roun'. 
De  little  pigs  had  oncurled  dey  tails  an'  wuz  tryin' 
ter  set  up  on  dey  hine  laigs,  but  dey  cud  'n  do  nuttin ' 
an'  so  dey  wuz  all  des  a-fallin'  'roun'  an'  oveh  one 
'nudder.  I  see  sumpin'  hatter  be  did,  so  I  up  an' 
call  big  Jim  fum  'crost  de  meader.  Jim,  he  des 
loded  Unc'  Caesar  on  de  wheel-barra'  an'  den  tuk  an' 
emp'y  'im  onto  de  straw  pile  in  de  barn  flo'.  He 
lay  dar  de  'hole  endurin'  night.  Dat  wuz  sho'ly  bad 
an'  I  knode  de  chu'ch  hatter  do  sumpin'  'bout  hit 
sune's  de  wud  got  'roun'." 

The  whole  plantation,  and  in  fact  the  dusky  pop 
ulation  of  the  entire  countryside  was  thoroughly 
stirred  when  it  became  known  that  "Unc'  Caesar," 
who  had  always  been  held  up  to  young  and  old  as  a 
paragon  of  orthodox  belief,  as  they  viewed  it,  and 
of  consistent  living,  had  actually  and  undeniably  been 
hopelessly  drunk.  They  could  hardly  believe  their 
ears.  True,  for  the  honor  of  "de  chu'ch,"  and  in 
justice  to  the  old  man,  an  effort  had  been  made  to 


44         I     HE  AH     DE     VOICES     CALLIN' 


circulate  the  extenuating  circumstances.  Still  the 
offence  was  too  open  and  of  far  too  grave  a  nature 
to  be  ignored  or  even  lightly  passed  over.  This  la 
mentable  fall  from  grace  must  be  discussed  in  open 
"meetin', "  and  at  least  a  severe  reproof  and  warning 
administered.  In  fact,  he  must  "be  tried  befo'  de 
chu'ch" — its  dignity  and  discipline  must  be  main 
tained.  It  must  be  done  without  delay.  So  the  fol 
lowing  Sunday  was  set  for  this  serious  and  solemn 
ordeal. 

The  little  church  under  the  trees  by  the  creek  \v;is 
packed  to  suffocation.  The  window  sashes  were  re 
moved  as  the  only  means  of  admitting  a  little  light 
and  air  above  the  ebony  heads  and  faces  which  filled 
the  lower  part  of  the  opening,  and  as  to  the  atmos 
phere  within,  nothing  short  of  formaldehyde  (for-mal- 
de-hide),  could  have  restored  it  to  its  pristine  purity. 
The  trial  was  to  follow  public  worship,  so  after  a 
rousing  sermon  on  "De  Devil  is  a  Roarin'  Lion,"  and 
closing  with  the  hymns,  "Hark  from  the  Tombs," 
and  "Don't  Tromp  on  de  Cross,"  they  proceeded  to 
arraign  the  trembling  offender. 

Brer'  Jenkins,  who  loved  to  preach  in  thunderous 


"UNC1   CAESAR." 
His  eves  were  "walled"  out  of  the  door. 


46         I     HE  AH     DE     VOICES     CALL  IX' 


tones  the  terrors  of  the  law,  rather  than  the  softer  side 
of  religion,  now  stood  up  as  the  prosecuting  officer. 
He  was  tall,  lank,  bony  and  of  powerful  frame.  His 
coat,  which  was  his  chief  pride,  being  a  long-tailed 
frock,  bestowed  upon  him  in  a  moment  of  generosity 
by  "Ole  Marster,"  hung  loosely  about  him,  while  his 
rusty  beaver  sat  on  the  bench  behind  him  holding  his 
red  bandanna. 

On  either  side  of  him,  in  solemn  array,  were  the 
most  respectable  of  the  old  "brederen  and  sisteren. " 
On  a  chair  near  the  door  sat  "Unc'  Caesar."  His 
snowy,  well-patched  shirt,  which  had  evidently  been 
hastily  put  on,  was  all  awry  at  the  neck,  while  he  was 
clearly  "oneasy  in  his  min', "  for  his  eyes  w«iv 
"walled"  out  of  the  door  on  the  left  side,  or  back 
among  the  moving  dusky  shadows  of  the  right.  His 
fringe  of  grey  hair  stood  on  end,  while  his  whole  face 
wore  an  expression  of  troubled  anxiety. 

Hrer'  Jenkins  stood  up,  and  shaking  his  long  bony 
finger,  said  "Brer'  Caesar,  yo'  is  drawed  up  befo'  dis 
ersembly  uv  'spectable  membus  tcr  answer  fer  yo7 
sins  whut  yo'  done  a-puppus,  an'  fer  yo'  sha\vt- 
comin's.  Dp  fust  an'  wuss  sin  is  dat  vo' 


HOW     UXC'     CAESAR    GOT     DRUNK     47 

is  bin  drunk,  not  des  er  spinnin'  'romi' 
on  one  foot  an'  singin'  'Chicken  in  de  Bread  Tray/ 
an'  all  dat  trash,  but  yo'  is  bin  drunk  down  wid  de 
beastes  uv  de  fiel'  an'  de  fowles  uv  de  air.  Den  yor 
tnk  an'  fell  right  in  wid  dat  tem'tashun  widout  a- 
fightin'  uv  hit  none.  Ef  yo'  hadder  bin  choppinr 
wood  studdy  yo'  would 'n  er  knode  nuttin'  'bout  hit. 
But  I  kin  see  yo'  right  now  er  restin'  on  yo'  ax,  wid 
yo'  nose  in  de  air,  an'  right  den  'long  cum  ole  Satan 
a-carryin'  dat  good  smell,  an'  yo'  tuk  right  out  artar 
it.  an'  de  fust  yo'  kno'  yo'  ain'  kno'  ivhar  yo'  is.  Yo' 
eyes  an'  yo'  yeahs  an'  yo'  nose  an'  yo'  feets  is  giv* 
ter  yo '  ter  keep  yo '  outen  trouble,  an '  not  ter  tek  yo ' 
in.  Mens  is  bin  gittin'  drunk  eveh  sence  ole  Brer* 
Noah's  time." 

"But,  Brer'  Jenkins."  interrupted  "Unc'  Caesar," 
"I  ain'  kno'  nuffin  'bout  dem  dar  drugs,  dey  smell 
sweet  es  de  flowers  offen  ole  Mistis'  rose  bed,  an'  I 
des  'lowed  ter  in 'self  all  dat  ar  cl'ar  stuff  whut  dey 
calls  wine  is  done  drawed  off  an  tuk  in  de  house  an' 
set  on  de  side-bode  fer  de  quality,  an '  dese  heah  brown 
drugs  ain'  nuttin',  dey  ain'  gwine  hu't  dis  ole  niggah, 
ole  Satan  done  gone  in  de  house  an'  got  in  de  dc- 


48         I     HE  AH     DE    VOICES    CALLIN' 

canter,  settin'  dar  waitin'  fer  de  w'ite  fo'kes.  Ef 
hit  hadder  bin  hard  cider,  I'd  er  knode  bettah,  kase 
I  is  erquainted  wid  dat.  I  feels  tumble  bad  an' 
broke  up  'bout  dis  heah,  but  hit  happen  so  onbe- 
knownst  ter  m'se'f  an'  so  confusin'  like,  I  des  ain' 
'sponsible. " 

"Well,  Brer'  Caesar,  dat  mout  be,  but  yo'  is  done 
bro't  turrible  trouble  on  dis  heah  chu'ch  uv  which  I 
is  de  'on 'able  Shep'ud,  an'  how  is  I  gwine  raise  all 
dese  heah  chilluns  wid  sich  er  'zample  set  ura?  Den 
dar  is  annudder  sin  er  restin '  on  yo '  soul.  'Way  in  de 
daid  er  night,  yo'  bin  drawin'  po'  souls  on  todes  de 
Debbil  wid  dat  ar  ongodly  fiddle  o'  yourn,  hit  des 
crawls  outen  de  cracks  an  sets  de  young  fo'kes  pran- 
cin'  an'  dancin'  right  straight  on  ter  de  bad  place. 
Don't  yo'  kno'  yo'  mus'n'  put  de  fiddle  ter  yo'  na- 
ber's  yeahs  anymo'  dan  yo'  do  de  bottle  ter  his  mouf  ? 
Dat  kin'er  music,  hit  gits  onter  yo'  bans,  an'  gits  ou 
ter  yo'  feet  an'  onter  yo'  haid,  an'  den  inter  yo' 
h'art.  Fiddle  music  puts  onto  yo'  whut  de  preachers 
can't  put  onto  yo',  an'  ef  hit  gits  into  yo',  de  preach 
ers  can't  git  hit  outen  yo'.  Dat  sut'ney  is  de  trufe,  I 
done  seed  it." 


HOW     UNC'     CAESAR     GOT     DRUNK     49 


At  this  juncture  "Brer'  Jenkins"  called  for  opin 
ions,  which  were  given  with  great  solemnity  and  vary 
ing  degrees  of  severity  as  to  the  offences  and  the  de 
grees  of  punishment.  Some  holding  that  the  fiddle 
was  at  the  bottom  of  all  the  trouble  and  should  either 
be  smashed  or  buried. 

The  case  looked  so  dark  that  "Unc'  Caesar"  was 
evidently  "feelin'  pow'ful  bad."  He  feared  total 
excommunication,  which  would  have  broken  his  heart, 
for  to  be  put  "outen  de  chu'ch"  was  a  life-long  stig 
ma,  casting  the  offender  outside  of  all  social  and  re 
ligious  standing. 

The  tension  was  great  as  "Brer'  Jenkins"  stood 
up — "Brer'  Caesar,  as  de  Shep'ud  uv  de  Lawd's  er- 
ligioii  en  dese  parts,  I  is  now  ter  giv'  jedgement.  We 
is  not  ter  'spend  yo'  by  de  nake  twel  yo'  is  daid.  but 
we  is  ter  'spend  yo'  'twix  heaben,  an'  earf,  an'  de 
bad  place.  We  is  ter  han'  yo'  oveh  ter  ole  Satan  twel 
he  done  sif  yo'  out.  De  chu'ch  en  dat  time '11  be  a- 
'ras'lin'  an'  a-prayin'.  Yo'  is  not  ter  pray  none  en  de 
chu'ch,  ner  'zort  none.  An'  dat  'ar  onri'chus  fiddle 
es  ter  be  wrop  up  en  sack-clof  an'  ashes  an'  laid  on  de 
high  shelf.  Dar  is  one  thing  ergin  yo'  whut  yo' 


50         I     HEAH     DE     VOICES     CALLIN' 


cyar'n  he'p,  an'  dat  is  yo'  name.  Hit  es  er  heathen 
name,  ole  Marster  say,  an'  hit  hev  drug  yo'  down.  Ef 
yo'  hadder  bin'  name'  Isaier,  er  Jerrymier  now,  er 
eben  Lamantashuns,  yo'  mout  er  tu'ned  out  bettah. 
An'  may  de  Lawd  hab  mussy  on  yo'  soul." 

Poor  "Unc'  Caesar"  evidently  felt  that  considering 
his  long,  consistent  life,  his  sentence  was  far  too  se 
vere,  and,  amidst  a  silence  which  could  be  felt,  he 
crept  away  muttering  to  himself,  "I  jined  de  chu'ch 
forty-two  yeahs  ago,  an'  I  ain'  said  'Confound  it' 
sence. ' ' 


DE  OLE  BLACK  MAMMY 


DE   OLE    BLACK    MAMMY. 


DE   OLE    BLACK   MAMMY 


Dey  say  that  I  is  eb'ny 

An '  my  teef  is  iv  'ry  w  'ite ; 
Dat  de  Lawd  kno'  whut  He  doin', 

An'  He  made  me   'zactly  right. 

Bars  one  thing  I  kno,  sho'ly, 

I  says  it,  an'  I  smile; 
Dar  ain'  no  yaller  niggah, 

Kin  miss  my  white  fo'kes'  chile. 

Dey  ain'  kno'  how  to  tech  'em, 
Kase,  dey  ain '  de  sho '  nuff  thing. 

Hit  teks  de  rale  black  mammy 
To  kno'  des  how  to  sing. 

I  sings  'bout  "Kingdom  Comin'," 
An'  "Sweet  Chariot  Swingin'  Low" 

An'  de  good  ole  "Lan'  uv  Promis'  ' 
AVhar'  no  win's  uv  trouble  blow. 


54         I     HEAH     DE     VOICES     CALLIX' 


Den  de  baby  drap  off  easy, 

Des  a-restin '  on  my  arm ; 
An'  de  angels  talkin'  to   'im, 

An'  keepin'  'im  fum  harm. 

Dese  times  is  pow'ful  triflin', 
An'  'fo'  long  I  gwine  home. 

But  de  w'ite  fo'kes  can't  raise  chilluns, 
Wen  de  ole  black  mammy  gone. 


Yo '   ain '  no   qual  'ty  nigger. 

An'  yo'  need 't' cum  co'tin'  me. 
Yo'  wa'nt  no  qual'ty  den, 

An'  yo'  ain'  none  sence  yo'  free. 


DE  COMIN'  THOO  UV  PETER 
CRUMP 


DE  COMIN'  THOO  U V  PETER  CRUMP 


One  of  the  great  events  of  the  year  in  old  planta 
tion  life  was  the  camp-meeting,  which  was  arranged 
for  in  August  or  September,  after  the  crops  were  all 
stored  and  the  heavy  work  of  the  summer  over. 

On  one  of  the  great  plantations  in  eastern  V  irginia 
there  was  an  old  stump  out  in  the  edge  of  the  woods, 
which  the  negroes  looked  upon  as  sacred  to  the  proc 
ess  and  ordeal  of  "gittin'  religun."  They  had  their 
meetings  in  this  skirt  of  woods.  There  they  would 
sing  and  shout  and  the  mourners  would  lie  across  this 
stump  and  pray  and  groan  and  "  'rastle  wid  de  devil 
till  they  'ud  cum  thoo. ' ' 

Peter  Crump  was  a  very  black,  ugly,  repulsive,  de 
formed  creature,  whose  back  had  been  broken  one 
night  on  a  "possum"  hunt.  He  had  gone  with  his 
young  masters,  the  "possum"  had  been  treed  and 
there  was  nothing  left  but  to  cut  the  tree  clown.  As  it 
fell,  Peter  somehow  failed  to  get  altogether  out  of 
the  way,  and  a  large  limb,  striking  him,  broke  his 


60         I     HE  AH     DE     VOICES     CALLIN' 

back.  Though  so  hideous  in  face  and  form,  lie  was 
perfectly  harmless,  sensible,  kind  and  good. 

There  was  a  great  revival  in  operation  on  the  plan 
tation.  The  preachers  were  kept  busy  doing  their 
day's  work  and  "carrying  on"  the  revival  at  night. 
The  stump  was  kept  warm  with  the  converts,  numbers 
of  whom  would  "cum  thoo''  every  night.  Peter  was 
devoted  to  "Mistis  an'  ole  Mistis, "  but  he  had  not 
been  up  from  his  cabin  for  sometime  to  pay  his  "be- 
specks"  to  them.  It  was  known,  however,  that  he 
was  "gittin'  religun  an'  gittin'  it  hard."  When  he 
did  finally  "cum  thoo"  he  came  up  to  tell  "ole  Mis- 
tis  'bout  it." 

"I  is  sut'ney  had  a  hard  time,  Mistis.  I  bin  a-lay- 
in'  on  de  stump,  an'  prayin'  an'  groanin',  an'  callin' 
on  de  Lawd,  an'  sum  nights  I  bin  dar  by  de  stump,  er 
'crost  it,  all  night.  I  knows  I  des  a  po'  ole  sinful 
niggah.  but  I  'lowed  I  ain'  so  pow'ful  bad,  I  wux  a 
straight  sinner.  I  'spec',  dough,  I  wux  swole  up  wid 
pride  an'  dat  in  reason  de  Lawd  hatter  pass  me  oveh 
to  ole  Satan  twel  he  done  sif '  me  out. 

"One  night  dar,  w'en  meh  streuk  wux  'bout  gone, 
an'  I  done  wo'  out  'rastlin'  wid  de  devil.  I  los'  m'se'f 


DE  COMIN'  THOO  UV  PETER  CRUMP  61 


fer  de  longes'  time.  An'  endurin'  uv  dat  time  I  seed 
a  vishuh.  I  see  m  'se  'f  sprawled  out  on  a  fiatform,  an ' 
dat  flatform,  \vid  me  on  hit,  wuz  des  balance'  oveh 
hell  fire.  Yo'  ain'  nuver  see  no  fire  nuttin'  like  dat. 
it  wusser'n  de  cross-rodes  blacksmif  shop  whar  dey 
blow  de  bellus  twel  dey  wore  deyse'fs  out  mekin'  de 
i'on  red  hot.  I  helt  on  hard  as  I  cud  to  de  flatform, 
an'  look  down  oveh  de  aige.  I  see  de  big  ole  Devil 
settin'  dar  wid  de  pitch-fo'k  red  hot,  an'  a  'hole  pas- 
sel  o'  little  devils  a-prancin'  'roun'  wid  dey  fo'ks 
het  up,  too.  All  un  um  wuz  a-watchin'  me,  an'  a- 
shakin'  dey  hawns,  much  es  ter  say,  'He  ain'  gwine 
hoi '  out  much  longer,  an '  den  he  drap  in. '  De  flatform 
wuz  gittin'  hotter  an'  hotter,  an'  crumlin'  off  all 
'roun'  de  aiges.  Den  torreckly  I  riz  up  on  meh  foots 
wid  de  las'  plank  under  me,  an'  hit  a-splinterin'  an'  a- 
crmnlin '.  I  cudn  't  do  nuttin ',  but  T  des  kep '  on  callin ' 
on  de  Lawd,  do  de  sulfer  wuz  mos'  chokin'  uv  me.  All 
to  wunst  I  look  pas'  de  stump,  an'  down  de  paf  to  de 
shadders  uv  de  woods,  an'  dar,  cumin'  todes  me,  wuz 
a  little  gray  man.  His  clo'es  fell  oveh  'im  des  like  de 
'Piscopal  preacher's  do  w'en  he  git  up  to  preach.  He 
had  de  kindes'  look  outen  his  eyes  eveh  yo'  see,  an' 


62         I     HE  AH     DE     VOICES     CALLIN' 


his  face  wuz  shinin '.  He  look  strong,  too,  like  he  ain ' 
'feared  o'  nuttin'.  Den  he  helt  out  his  han'  to  mer 
an'  I  tried  to  git  to  'im.  Den  he  lif  me  bod'ly  offen 
dat  erumlin'  plank  onto  de  cool  sof  groun'  an'  pasr 
de  stump.  I  say  ter  m'se'f,  'I  is  light  es  air  now,'  anr 
I  shet  up  meh  eyes  an'  'gunter  shout,  'Glory,  halle- 
luyah,  de  Lawd  done  cum'  ter  dis  po'  ole  sinful,  ugly, 
black  niggah,  an'  I  see  de  mark  uv  de  cross  on  de 
stump.'  I  open  meh  eyes  ter  see  de  gray  man  ergin, 
but  he  done  gone.  But  I  so  happy  I  ain'  kno'  whar  I 
is.  I  look  roun'  fer  dat  hole  in  de  groun',  but  it  done 
close'  up,  an'  I  ain'  see  it  no  mo'. 

"It  seem  like  to  me  I  smell  de  flowers  back  in  de 
tall  grass,  an  'tudder  side  o '  de  woods  I  heah  de  creek 
singin ',  an  de  birds  in  de  tree-tops,  an '  de  light  spread 
sof  all  oveh  de  sky,  an'  Mistus,  I  cum  thoo. " 

"Mistis',"  and  "ole  Mistis',"  eyes  were  wet  and 
shining,  while  down  Peter's  black  cheeks  rolled  two 
great  tears  and  dropped  on  his  dusky  hands,  which 
shook  with  the  emotion  of  his  realistic  vision. 

He  was  never  known  to  "backslide."  and  seemed  to 
be  always  earnestly  happy.  Any  time  of  the  day. 
whether  he  was  minding  the  cows  in  the  woodland 


pastures,  or  digging  for  roots  in  the  low-grounds,  he 
might  be  heard  singing,  in  wailing,  but  melodious 
tones, 

"0,  sister  Marthy,  don't  tromp  on  de  cross, 
Yo'  foot  mout  slip,  an'  yo'  soul  git  los'. 
Don't  tromp  on  de  cross. 

"Ole  Satan,  he  like  a  snake  in  de  grass, 
Always  in  some  Christun's  paf. 
Don't  tromp  on  de  cross. 

"Ef  religun  wuz  a  thing  dat  money  c'ud  buy, 
Den  de  rich  w'ud  live  an'  de  po'  w'ud  die. 
Don't  tromp  on  de  cross. 

"Hypocrits,  hypocrits,  God  despise, 
Tongue  so  keen  dat  dey  will  tell  lies. 
Don't  tromp  on  de  cross." 


Peter  Crump  belonged  to  Judge  Watkins   of  Farmville,  Va. 


G'way  from  lieah!     Yo'  see  disher  hawg?    She 
so  spil't  she  won't  leiiime  set  in  ile  do',  hardly. 


'QUEEN  HULDY' 


'QUEEN  HULDY' 


A  Tale  of  the  Mississippi. 

The  time  when  this  story  opens  was  away  back  in 
the  early  forties  of  the  last  century.  Longwood  was 
one  of  the  many  stately  homes  of  the  Old  South,  and 
like  all  plantation  homes  where  refinement  and  cul 
ture  reigned,  had  its  hundreds  of  happy,  devoted 
slaves.  It  was  perfectly  kept  and  always  beautiful. 
Whether  amid  the  gray-greens  and  pinks  of  early 
spring  and  the  grace  of  tasselled  buds  along  the 
streams ;  or  under  the  full  tide  and  glory  of  a  prodi 
gal  midsummer;  or  in  autumn  when  King  Cotton 
rolled  his  miles  of  billowy  waves ;  or  even  in  winter 
when  the  days  were  "shot  to  the  core  with  sunshine," 
which  at  sunset  made  the  grand  old  avenue  a  ca 
thedral  aisle  with  the  rose  window  of  its  transept  far  to 
the  west ;  whatever  the  time  or  season,  old  Longwood 
sat  a  queen. 

The  interior  of  Longwood  fully  justified  the  state- 
liness  and  beauty  of  the  exterior.  To  the  right  of  the 


68         I     HE  AH     DE     VOICES     CALLIN' 

imposing  hall  were  the  large  parlors  and  dining-room. 
To  the  left  the  library  and  music  rooms.  Opening  in 
to  the  library  was  a  large  bed-room.  This  was  richly 
adorned  and  decorated.  It  was  in  pale  blue  and  gold, 
with  the  high  ceiling  frescoed  in  little  Cupids  bearing 
festoons  of  delicate  wild  flowers.  The  furniture, 
heavy  old  mahogany  which  had  been  in  the  family  for 
generations,  was  covered  with  a  French  brocade  in 
floral  design  of  soft  tints  to  harmonize  with  the  decor 
ation  of  the  ceiling,  while  upon  the  rich,  dark  waxed 
floors  were  handsome  oriental  rugs.  The  windows, 
draped  with  soft  lace,  ran  from  ceiling  to  floor.  Two 
of  these  windows  opened  upon  a  veranda  towards  the 
West,  about  ten  feet  back  from  the  front  portico ;  one 
of  them  has  a  tragic  significance  appearing  later  on  in 
this  story. 

The  figure  of  a  manly  man  can  give  expression  to 
and  stamp  character  upon  a  landscape ;  and  therefore 
the  impression  any  visitor  might  have  of  beautiful, 
stately  old  Longwood  would  be  greatly  added  to  as 
Colonel  Edward  Gray  swung  wide  the  great  front 
doors  of  his  mansion,  walked  briskly  across  the  pil 
lared  portico,  and  down  to  the  drive  below. 


69 


Here  was  a  man  who  was  the  consummate  flower  of 
the  chivalric  age  of  the  old  South.  Brave,  ready  to 
fight  for  a  principle,  yet  reserved,  self-contained,  for 
bearing.  The  fine  cut  of  his  features  showed  blue 
blood,  intellect,  strength  and  generations  of  culture, 
combining  the  indomitable  will  and  healthy  activity  of 
his  English  ancestors  with  the  warm-blooded  intensity 
of  the  Hugenot  strain  from  the  best  of  sunny  France. 
When  college  days  arrived,  he  was  sent  to  his  father's 
Virginia  alma  mater.  Colonel  Gray  was  well  read  in 
the  best  literature  which  the  ages  had  accounted  as 
worthy  to  live,  and  as  to  severer  studies,  the  exigen 
cies  of  the  time  had  concentrated  his  attention  upon 
law,  government  and  finance.  The  administration  of 
his  vast  estate,  together  with  the  social,  financial,  and 
political  questions  of  the  day,  made  of  him,  as  it  did 
of  most  of  the  able  young  men  of  his  class,  incipient 
governors,  statesmen,  and  commanders-m-chief.  Hos 
pitality  reigned,  and  many  of  the  best-known  men  of 
the  time  were  guests  at  his  board,  brilliant  talkers  and 
notable  tellers  of  tales.  Conversations  were  enriched 
with  the  classics  and  alive  with  old-world  history,  as 
well  as  quotations  from  "what  T  have  heard  my 


70         I     HE  AH     DE     VOICES     CALLIN' 

father  say."  Those  were  the  days  when  conversation 
was  not  only  a  fine  art.  hut  so  spontaneous  one  could 
not  detect  where  nature  and  art  fused  into  one.  Could 
it  only  have  been  written,  future  ages  would  have  had 
no  better  model. 

Ten  years  before,  Edward  Gray  had  brought  to 
Longwood  his  beautiful  bride,  who  was  also  his  cousin, 
from  her  home  in  upper  Mississippi.  Some  idea  of 
this  famous  beauty  will  be  found  in  the  following  de 
scription  of  her  portrait,  which  her  devoted  young 
husband  had  ordered  painted  by  one  of  the  masters  of 
the  day.  Just  inside  the  library,  in  a  long  panel  by 
the  bedroom  door,  hung  this  full-length  portrait.  A 
being  fair  and  winsome,  clad  in  the  diaphanous  folds 
of  some  filmy  robe;  across  the  forehead  and  down  the 
neck  strayed  wind-blown  escaping  tresses  of  golden 
bail'.  Hut  the  charm  and  power  of  the  face  lay  in  the 
wondrous  violet  eyes — they  followed  one  to  every  part 
of  the  room  and  out  into  the  great  hall.  Tpon  the-e 
the  artist  had  done  his  best  and  crowned  himself  ;i 
master. 

With  this  beautiful  bride  came  "Iluldy."  who  had 
always  been  her  maid  and  loved  her  young  ''Mistis" 


QUEEX     HULDY  71 

with  a  passionate  devotion  that  she  never  gave  to  any 
body  else.  Indeed,  she  apparently  bestowed  affection 
upon  no  one  else,  unless  it  might  be  her  ill-shapen, 
uncanny  boy,  Tom.  Her  mother  had  come  direct  from 
Africa.  She  was  the  daughter  of  a  chief  in  the  inter 
ior,  and  was  taken  prisoner  by  a  tribe  at  war  with  her 
father  and  sold  by  them  to  a  trader  from  the  coast, 
who  included  her  in  a  shipload  of  negroes  leaving  for 
America.  Huldy's  father  was  an  Indian,  so  in  in 
heriting  from  both  parents,  she  was  in  stature,  physi 
ognomy,  disposition  and  character  essentially  unlike 
any  of  the  other  servants  in  that  part  of  the  country. 
In  appearance,  she  was  tall,  very  dark,  muscular,  and 
with  an  evident  trace  of  her  African  mother  and  her 
Indian  father  in  the  cast  of  her  countenance.  Having 
unusual  natural  ability,  she  had  also  been  trained  very 
carefully  by  "ole  Mistis"  into  a  very  capable  servant, 
superior  as  a  maid,  and  also  a  very  excellent  cook. 
She  was  faithfulness  itself  to  her  young  "Mistis"  and 
'"Marse  Ed'ard. "  But  from  the  first,  all  the  servants 
of  Longwood  alike  feared  and  hated  her.  AVhen 
roused,  her  temper  was  violent  and  vindictive,  and 
they  fled  in  terror  at  the  strange  words  she  uttered  in 


72         I    HEAR    DE    VOICES    CALLIN' 

a  tongue  they  had  never  heard.  They  were  sure  she 
had  constant  communication  "wid  de  Debbil,"  and 
could  "cunjer"  them  at  will.  They  knew  she  kept 
on  hand  "yarbs,"  "lizuds,"  and  "toad-legs;"  that 
she  walked  in  the  "ma'shes"  at  night,  regardless  of 
the  mists  and  miasma  of  the  river.  Yet  so  subtle  and 
dominant  was  her  personality  that  in  carrying  out  her 
"Mistis'  "  commands,  they  obeyed  her  unquestion 
ably,  and  mockingly  called  her  "Queen  Huldy." 

Young  ' '  Mistus, ' '  whom  she  idolized,  and  who  was 
the  only  one  who  could  absolutely  control  her,  only 
lived  about  two  years  and  a  half ;  dying  of  that  deadly 
fever,  typhus  malaria,  from  which  the  whole  region 
sometimes  suffered,  when  the  mighty  river  rose  in  his 
strength,  burst  all  bounds  and  flooded  vast  sections  of 
the  rich  lowlands.  To  say  that  she  was  universally  la 
mented  would  be  but  the  simple  truth.  From  her 
young  husband  lover,  and  his  wide  circle  of  friends, 
down  to  the  humblest  servant  on  the  estate  she  w;is 
loved  and  trusted. 

Longwood  for  some  years  was  largely  a  closed  place. 
The  master  administered  his  vast  plantation  with 
conspicuous  ability,  finding  his  principal  pleasure  in 


QUEEN     HULDY 


this,  his  books,  and  a  few  close  friends,  with  now  and 
then  a  family  gathering,  or  a  few  weeks  spent  in  one 
of  the  large  cities,  where  he  could  hear  good  music  or 
see  a  fine  play.  As  to  the  domestic  arrangements, 
while  he  planned  everything,  Huldy  was  in  charge. 
Her  faithfulness,  honesty  and  ability,  having  been 
tested,  were  to  be  relied  upon.  Nevertheless,  young 
Colonel  Gray  was  a  lonely  man.  His  father  and  mo 
ther  had  died  some  years  before  ;  his  sisters  had  mar 
ried  and  lived  in  distant  homes  of  their  own. 

At  the  end  of  seven  years,  Edward  Gray  decided 
to  spend  a  summer  in  Virginia  among  his  mother's 
people.  Here  he  won  for  himself  "Miss  Margaret,"  a 
daughter  of  the  Cavaliers  :  one  whose  name  was  linked 
with  the  '  '  men  who  had  planted  the  tree  of  liberty  and 
made  possible  a  great  republic  ;  "  a  name  whose  bear 
ers  had  grown  '  '  gentler,  truer  arid  more  self-respecting 
because  of  the  virtues  of  a  long  line  of  ancestors  who 
had  lifted  a  family  name  to  deserved  eminence." 

"Miss  Margaret,"  she  of  the  fine  grain,  the  silken 
hair,  the  musical  speech,  the  graceful  mien,  who  had 
been  brought  up  by  two  of  God  's  chief  ministers  :  na 
ture  and  a  gracious,  gentle,  pure  mother;  she  whose 


I     HE  AH     DE     VOICES     CALLLV 


bed-rock  foundation  was  innate  virtue,  piety  and  wom 
anliness.  These,  with  a  habit  of  self-control,  prepared 
her  for  her  duties,  whether  great  or  small.  This  was 
the  girl  Edward  Gray  had  won.  Noble  in  character 
himself,  he  sought  only  that  which  was  fine  and  true 
in  Southern  womanhood. 

Directions  had  gone  down  to  Longwood  as  to  the 
preparation  for  the  homecoming  of  the  lovely  bride. 
and  these  were  being  carried  out  by  Huldy.  assisted 
by  the  full  corps  of  house  servants  and  the  best  hands 
on  the  place.  Whatever  Huldy  might  have  thought 
when  told  of  the  coming  of  the  new  "Mistis. "  she 
gave  no  sign  and  worked  hard  to  have  everything 
"jes'  like  Marse  Ed'ard  wanted  it."  Every  curtain 
hung  snowy  and  crisp  in  its  place,  while  the  silver  and 
rich  old  floors  were  polished  to  perfection. 

Universal  holiday  was  declared  that  bright  Oc 
tober  morning  when  "Marse  Ed'ard"  was  expected, 
and  the  undercurrent  of  excitement  was  intense  as  the 
carriage  rolled  up  the  avenue  from  the  landing.  Hap 
piness  was  contagious — the  Master,  the  spirit  and  cen 
tre  of  everything,  had  come  home.  Every  face  \va^ 
a  shining  welcome  as  they  declared  to  each  other  that 


QUEEN     HULDY  75 


' '  de  nth  warn '  good  'nuff  fer  'em  to  walk  on. ' '  Huldy, 
standing  a  little  in  advance  of  the  other  servants, 
smiled  her  welcome  also.  But  a  close  observer  would 
have  noticed  the  narrowing  of  the  eyelids  and  the 
strange  gleam  which  shot  beneath  them. 

The  weeks  and  months  which  followed  were  largely 
given  up  to  social  gaieties,  as  the  whole  country-side 
welcomed  the  beautiful  bride  and  rejoiced  that  old 
Longwood  was  again  filled  with  light  and  laughter. 
"Miss  Margaret"  guided  the  affairs  of  her  household 
with  unquestioned  ability.  She  soon  became  the  idol 
of  the  house  servants,  and  was  admired  and  trusted  by 
the  whole  plantation.  True  to  her  native  instincts, 
home  training,  and  the  traditions  of  every  true  South 
ern  mistress,  she  looked  closely  after  the  physical 
and  religious  interests  of  her  servants,  taught  them 
the  truth  and  pointed  them  to  Heaven  when  they 
died.  Amid  all  this  harmony,  Huldy  was  the  only 
being  out  of  tune.  Faultless  in  her  obedience  and  re 
spect,  she  was  yet  taciturn  of  speech  and  singular  of 
manner.  "Miss  Margaret,"  knowing  her  silent  nature, 
strange  disposition  and  devotion  to  her  former 
"Mistis, "  did  not  expect  too  much  of  her.  Surrounded 


76         I    HE  AH    DE    VOICES    CALLIN' 

by  affection  and  absorbed  in  her  busy  life,  suspicion 
formed  no  part  of  the  thinking  of  the  young  mistress 
of  Longwood. 

Spring  comes  early  in  that  part  of  the  South,  and 
with  it  some  malaria,  against  which  the  inhabitants 
are  constantly  guarding.  So  when  "Miss  Margaret" 
began  to  have  a  series  of  light  chills  and  to  lose  some 
of  the  roses  from  her  cheeks,  her  husband  gave  her 
the  usual  remedies.  But  her  system  did  not  respond 
as  readily  as  might  have  been  expected  from  one  nat 
urally  so  vigorous.  A  strange  languor  would  overtake 
her  and  at  times  a  sense  of  numbness. 

It  was  spring — early  in  May.  One  morning  Colo 
nel  Gray,  as  he  stepped  upon  the  gravelled  drive, 
found  his  favorite  horse,  "Lady  Maud,"  waiting  for 
him,  held  by  one  of  the  young  negroes.  He  swung 
himself  into  the  saddle  and  moved  rapidly  off  down 
the  avenue  and  into  the  road  beyond.  This  was  a 
spring  morning  of  surpassing  loveliness.  Nothing 
could  exceed  the  beauty  of  the  tender  foliage  of  the 
giant  trees  and  the  flower-crowned  hedges  where  hon 
eysuckle  and  yellow  jasmine  intertwined  and  ran 
riot.  The  mists  rolling  from  the  river  carried  their 
perfume  everywhere. 


QUEEN     HULDY  77 

Suddenly  the  Colonel's  horse  shied.  Out  from  the 
tangle  of  briars  and  hedge  scrambled  a  negro  boy 
of  about  fifteen  or  sixteen.  His  shirt  was  ragged  and 
his  trousers  were  held  in  place  by  one  ' '  gallus. ' '  His 
face  was  a  good  one,  showing  honesty  and  loyal  af 
fection. 

' '  Sam,  you  black  rascal,  what  do  you  mean  by  scar 
ing  my  horse  in  this  fashion  ? ' '  exclaimed  the  Colonel. 

"Marse  Ed'ard,  I  sho'  did'n'  mean  ter  skeer  dat 
hoss,  but  I  bin  er-waitin'  heah  a  hour  des  ter  see  you, 
kase  I  got  sump'n  ter  tell  you  dat  yo'  is  des  'bledged 
ter  kno'." 

With  that  he  drew  from  each  pocket  the  head  of  a 
large  rattlesnake. 

"I  say  ter  m'sef,  Marse  Ed'ard  sut'ney  will  wun- 
ner  whar  I  got  dese  heah  snake-haids,  an'  he  sho' 
will  ax  me  what  I  gwine  do  wid  'em." 

The  Colonel  knew  that  he  could  trust  Sam  to  tell 
the  truth  and  that  the  cause  of  his  agitation  must  be 
something  out  of  the  ordinary,  so  he  replied : 

"Well,  Sam,  tell  me  the  whole  thing." 

"Yas,  suh,  I  gwine  tell  all  I  kno'.  Yistiddy  w'en 
me  an'  'Queen  HuldyV  Tom  wuz  'rastlin',  I  got  mad 


78         I     HE  AH    DE    VOICES    CALLIN' 

and  frowed  him  down  hard,  and  sot  on  him  an'  den  I 
'lowed  I  gwine  emp'y  out  his  pockets,  kase  I  see  dey 
look  mighty  full  o'  sump'n.  T  say,  'Tom,  whut  in  de 
Debbil  you  doin'  wid  dem  dar  pizen  snake  haids?'  Anr 
Tom,  he  say, 

"  'I  des  got  'em  fer  Mammy;  she  sont  me  down  in 
de  aige  uv  de  swamp  an'  I  didn't  had  no  trouble  git- 
tin'  'em.' 

"An  den'  T  tole  him  1  gwine  keep  dexe  an'  he  kin 
git  sum  mo'.  Wid  dat  he  ain't  say  nuthiir,  des  got 
up  and  went  on.  Marse  Ed'ard.  it  certainly  is  de 
trufe  dat  de  Debbil  is  in  'Queen  Huldy'  wusser  en 
eveh.  She  got  er  ground  puppy,  too.  and  she  fixin* 
right  now  to  cunjer  sumbody  wid  'im.  Wen  eveh 
she  gits  ter  wukkin'  wid  things  like  dat,  sumbody  is 
boun'  ter  die  on  dis  plantation.  She  gits  er  spite  at 
sum  uv  us  po'  niggers,  and  sum  she  pizens  an'  sum 
she  cunjers.  She  goes  out  heah  in  de  dark  timber  of 
the  low  ground  an'  ketches  one  er  dese  heah  ground 
puppies  an'  draps  'im  in  a  ole  rusty  tin  cup  an'  puts 
'im  up  de  chimbly  whar  lie  kin  res'  on  de  ledge.  ;m 
hit  warm  and  dark.  She  don'  kill  de  creetur,  des  lets 
'im  dry  clean  up.  wid  his  sperit  in  'im,  den  she  pow- 


QUEEN    HULDY 


ders  'im  an'  cunjers  de  wuss  kine  \vid  dat.  I  keep  a 
good  jack-bag  'roun'  my  nake  so  I  ain'  nuver  got 
cunjered.  But,  Marse  Ed'ard,  I's  had  a  awful  sign. 
Las'  night  de  ole  squinch  owl  come  in  de  bushes, 
hin'st  my  cabin  an'  done  his  hollerin'.  I  didn't 
'spute  none  wid  'im,  I  des  jammed  de  shovel  in  de  fier. 
Den  I  tu'ned  meh  shoes  bottoms  upwards.  But  wid 
all  dat  he  would  'n  leave,  an'  I  kno'  fer  sho'  dat  sum 
uv  de  fambly  gwine  sune.  Dat's  de  wuss  sign  dey  is, 
an'  I  jes'  feared  sump'n  mout  happen  to  Miss  Mar 
garet." 

It  was  true  that  during  the  past  year  several 
deaths  had  occurred  on  the  plantation  which  could  not 
be  accounted  for.  The  doctor  had  said  it  was  "marsh 
fever."  One  case  was  attended  with  a  strange  de 
lirium.  Another  seemed  to  gradually  waste  away. 
This  was  "Sookie,"  who,  it  was  known,  had  in  some 
way  incurred  "Queen  Huldy's"  mortal  displeasure. 
The  superstitious  fear  of  the  negroes  was  therefore 
greatly  aroused,  but  as  nothing  had  happened  for  some 
months,  suspicion  had,  in  a  measure,  passed  away. 
As  the  Colonel  rode  off  after  Sam's  long  story,  he  had 
to  admit  to  some  feeling  of  uneasiness,  knowing  the 


80         I    HEAH    DB    VOICES    CALLIN' 

fear  and  hatred  of  the  servants  towards  ' '  Queen  Hul- 
dy, "  who  was  no  ordinary  negro. 

As  Colonel  Gray  rode  back  to  the  house  about  noon 
on  the  morning  of  Sam's  interview  he  felt  perplexed 
as  to  how  he  would  ever  deal  with  so  strange  a  being 
as  Huldy.  It  was  true  that  the  negroes  feared  and 
hated  her,  but  they  were  so  superstitious  that  it  was 
difficult  to  put  one's  finger  on  any  truth  pointing  to 
wrong-doing.  She  was  a  valuable  servant  and  almost 
indispensable  to  Margaret.  He  felt  instinctively  dis 
turbed,  however,  and  resolved  to  give  the  matter  ser 
ious  and  cautious  attention  within  the  next  few  days. 

It  was  the  Colonel's  regular  habit  to  make  an  im 
portant  business  trip  to  New  Orleans  every  spring, 
consuming  two  or  three  days.  This  was  Tuesday,  and 
he  was  to  leave  on  the  boat  that  night,  returning  early 
Friday  morning.  His  only  anxiety  was  leaving  Mar 
garet  alone,  but  he  had  made  every  arrangement  for 
her, safety  and  comfort.  The  overseer  and  his  family 
were  near  and  two  of  the  house  servants  were  to  oc 
cupy  a  small  room  at  the  back  of  the  house.  Huldy 
was  to  sleep  on  a  couch  in  her  "Mistis'  "  own  room, 
having  received  many  charges  to  take  good  care  of 
her. 


QUEEN     HULDY  81 

As  the  Colonel 's  carriage  sped  swiftly  to  the  landing 
along  the  avenues  and  through  the  star-crowned  night, 
was  there  no  voice  out  of  the  darkness?  Nothing. 
No  sound  broke  the  stillness,  but  the  whir  of  the 
quivering  bat- wings  sweeping  through  the  tree-tops, 
then  down  to  the  earth,  or  perhaps  a  mother  bird 
stirred  in  her  nest  in  the  outer  shrubbery  as  the  horses ' 
hoofs  pounded  on  the  hard  sand  approaching  the 
boat  landing,  or  the  swish  of  the  mighty  river  might 
be  heard  lapping  under  the  pier.  How  dull  are  our 
senses,  even  in  the  presence  of  impending  doom !  The 
skirts  of  destiny  brush  against  us  and  we  feel  them 
not.  How  great  are  the  limitations  of  human  life ! 
This  is  well,  for,  as  Dickens  has  said,  "If  we  could 
hear  the  grass  grow,  and  the  squirrel's  heart  beat, 
we  would  die  of  the  roar  on  the  other  side  of  silence." 
Huldy  curtsied  low  as  her  master  said  "Good 
bye,''  and,  as  on  the  day  of  Margaret's  arrival,  there 
was  the  suppressed  excitement  in  her  manner  and 
the  unnatural  brightness  of  her  eye.  This  was  the 
time  she  had  waited  for !  Known  only  to  her  was 
the  fact  that  malaria  was  playing  no  part  in  the  im 
paired  health  of  the  fair  mistress  of  Longwood.  For 


82         I    HBAH    DB    VOICES    CALLIN' 

weeks  as  she  brought  to  "Miss  Margaret"  her  ten 
o'clock  glass  of  fragrant  "sangaree"  and  thin  wa 
fers,  or  served  a  tiny  cup'  of  French  coffee  in  the  par 
lor  after  dinner,  she  never  failed  to  mix  a  few  drops 
from  a  small  flat  phial  she  carried  in  her  bosom.  This 
bottle  never  left  her  person.  It  was  attached  to  a 
strong  twine  string  which  hung  around  her  neck  un 
der  her  clothing.  The  fluid  was  greenish  in  color, 
clouded  in  appearance,  but  tasteless,  unless  it  might 
be  a  slightly  sweetish  quality. 

Huldy  was  a  descendant,  at  short  range,  of  a 
tribe  in  the  interior  of  Africa,  a  tribe  of  the  hills  and 
great  streams,  of  the  governing  class,  which  by  virtue 
of  mind  and  greater  strength  of  body,  were  a  superior 
people.  This  singular  being  had  virtues  and  certainly 
native  ability,  but,  though  she  could  read  the  Bible, 
she  never  became  a  subject  of  Christianity.  Capable 
of  intense  devotion  to  one  object,  love  had  harked 
back  to  the  only  being  who  had  ever  stirred  her  heart 
or  commanded  her  allegiance — her  own  "young  Mis- 
tis. "  Deadly  jealousy  arose  at  seeing  any  one  else 
enthroned  in  her  own  sacred  place ;  anger  at  the  re- 
linquishment  to  Miss  Margaret  of  the  power  she  her- 


QUEEN     HULDY  83 


self  had  held  on  the  plantation  for  seven  long  years — 
these  were  the  conflicting  passions ;  these  were  the  bas 
al  causes  swaying  her  to  action  and  forcing  her  with 
ceaseless  power  to  the  accomplishment  of  a  fiend-like 
purpose.  Why  did  not  Huldy  simply  leave  Longwood, 
run  away  as  negroes  sometimes  did?  This  was  no 
part  of  her  blood.  There  was  no  spot  on  this  earth 
where  she  could  be  happy.  High  tragedy  was  the 
only  thing  of  which  she  could  now  form  a  part.  No 
" Borgia"  of  old  Rome  ever  awaited  with  calmer  cer 
tainty  the  completion  of  his  plans  than  did  this  dark 
silent  woman  await  the  moment  of  hers. 

The  portrait  of  her  own  young  "Mistis,"  as  it 
hung  on  the  library  wall,  was  Huldy 's  shrine,  and 
often,  when  she  thought  herself  alone,  would  she 
stand  for  long  periods  before  it  muttering  strange 
words  in  mysterious  tones.  So  jealous  was  she  of  any 
one  using  anything  that  had  belonged  to  her  "  young 
Mistis"  that  she  would  convey  it  to  some  other  part 
of  the  house,  or  hide  it  altogether.  There  was  never 
a  time  since  her  "young  Mistis'  "  death  that  fresh 
flowers  were  not  found  in  a  beautiful  vase,  on  a  carved 
bracket,  which  hung  on  the  wall  beside  the  picture. 


84         I     IIEAH     DE     VOICES     CALLIN' 

The  two  days  following  the  Colonel's  departure 
were  marked  by  no  change,  except  that  Margaret  felt 
increasingly  languid  and  disposed  to  sleep.  But  think 
ing  that  it  was  only  malaria,  and  that  the  time  for 
their  departure  for  a  cooler  climate  was  comparative 
ly  near,  no  thought  of  impending  ill  suggested  itself. 
Thursday  night  had  come,  and  with  shining  starry 
eyes  she  thought  of  Edward's  return  in  the  early  light 
of  a  spring  morning.  She  had  been  served  a  cup  of 
tea  with  her  light  supper,  and  later  on  Iluldy  had 
brought  her  a  glass  of  iced  wine. 

Retiring  early  she  slept  immediately,  dimly  con 
scious  once  'that  Huldy  was  bending  over  her  saying. 
"Dis  heah's  de  las'  dose.  Miss  Margaret."  This  she 
took,  hardly  knowing  it. 

The  whole  plantation  slept  under  the  beauty  of 
the  Southern  night.  The  half-grown  moon  had  set. 
No  sound  broke  the  stillness  of  the  mansion  but  tin- 
ticking  of  the  clock  on  the  stairs. 

Iluldy  had  not  lain  down  nor  removed  her  dress, 
which  was  a  dull  red,  with  red  head-handkerchief 
tied  firmly  on,  the  ends  standing  up  on  top.  as  was 
her  custom.  She  brought  in  from  the  parlor  the  heavy 


QUEEN     HULDY  85 

double-branched  silver  candlesticks,  lighted  the  wax 
candles  and  put  on  the  red  shades.  She  moved  rest 
lessly  among  the  dark  unlighted  rooms  and  returned 
to  gaze  fixedly  into  the  face  of  the  sleeper.  The 
clock  chimed  midnight,  and  then,  as  the  last  echoes 
died  away,  she  went  swiftly  to  a  closet  and  drew  out 
a  large  box  from  which  she  took  Miss  Margaret's  bri 
dal  dress  and  began  dextrously  to  robe  her  in  it.  She 
drew  to  the  centre  of  the  room  the  low  couch  and 
threw  over  it  a  red  satin  slumber  robe  which  lay  on 
the  foot  of  the  bed.  Then  taking  Longwood's  fair 
mistress  in  her  arms  she  placed  her  on  it.  There  she 
lay  in  her  marvellous  beauty,  the  silken  folds  and 
filmy  lace  all  about  her.  How7  regal  she  looked !  Still 
breathing  softly  and  regularly,  but  with  strange,  pro 
found  depths.  Not  more  certainly  were  the  deepest 
currents  of  the  mighty  river  flowing  steadily  to  the 
sea,  than  were  the  life-tides  slowly  but  surely  moving 
toward  the  ocean  of  the  great  unknown. 

It  was  a  far  call  to  Virginia,  but  spirit  wings 
annihilate  space,  and  who  shall  say  that  this  gentle 
soul  in  passing  would  not  manifest  her  presence  in 
some  subtle  manner  in  the  old  home  and  that  the; 


86         I     HE  AH     DE     VOICES     CALLIN' 


loved  ones  waking  in  the  early  light  of  the  Virginia 
morning  would  not  ask  each  other,  ' '  Was  it  a  dream  ? 
1  thought  Margaret  spoke." 

Huldy,  in  the  passing  moments,  sometimes  seated 
herself  on  a  low  stool  at  the  foot  of  the  couch,  and 
sometimes  moved  restlessly  round  and  round  it,  hut 
always  she  rocked  herself  and  chanted  a  strange, 
dirge-like  song. 

The  master  was  to  arrive  at  four  o'clock,  but  there 
was  a  smaller  boat  at  three.  Huldy  was  listening  in 
tensely.  Suddenly  she  heard  the  click  of  his  key  in 
the  side  door  down  the  hall.  With  the  quickness  of  a 
wild  deer  she  sprang  through  the  long  open  window  on 
the  west  veranda  and  took  the  path  to  the  river.  The 
sky  was  whitening  to  the  East.  As  she  ran,  reaches 
of  marsh  grass  rippled  in  the  moaning  night  wind, 
seeming  to  run  along  the  shore  and  then  recede.  The 
estate  stretched  for  miles  up  the  river.  Here  and 
there  might  be  found  old  canoes,  moored  to  gnarled 
roots  and  half  hidden  among  the  reeds.  They  were 
used  only  by  the  negroes  as  they  passed  from  point  to 
point  in  their  work. 


QUEEN     HULDY  87 

The  river  was  up,  brimming  his  banks,  and  the 
ever-present  shadow  of  devastating  floods  hung  over 
the  protecting  dykes.     It  was  foolhardy  to  launch  a 
frail  skiff  on  those  boiling  waters.    But  "Queen  Hul- 
dy"  knew  no  fear,  had  never  known  it.     She  stepped 
into  one  of  them,  cut  the  rope  and  pushed  off  into  the 
current.    The  spirits  of  the  wild  hills  and  tumultuous 
streams  of  her  ancestral  Africa  possessed  her.     They, 
whose  occult  secrets  she  had  used,  might  now  reclaim 
her  and  she  would  return  to  primal  elements.     The 
rushing  of  the   great  Mississippi   in  its  yellow  rage 
seemed  a  fit  accompaniment  to  the  going  out  of  such 
an  untamed  and  untamable  spirit.     As  the  damming 
of  waters  is  but  the  gathering  of  force,  so  this  wild 
spirit  of  the  forest  and  the  jungle  pent  behind  the 
slender  barrier  of  only  one  generation  of  a  partial 
civilization  burst  its  bounds  with  the  added  fury  of 
accumulated  power.    Standing  erect  in  her  boat,  which 
rocked  with  the  swirling  of  the  currents,  her  tall  dark 
form  swayed  from  side  to  side  as  she  balanced  herself 
with  the  oar  she  was  gripping. 

The  stoic  of  the  Indian  strain  within  her  rose  to 
its  full  height  as  the  boat  shot  out  where  the  channel 


88         I     HE  AH     DE     VOICES     CALLIX' 


flowed  deep  and  strong.  Laying  down  her  oar.  she 
folded  her  arms  and  broke  forth  into  a  monotonous, 
wailing,  ha  If- forgotten  song,  learned  long  ago  in  child 
hood  from  her  African  mother. 

A  few  streaks  of  the  daybreak  shot  across  the  sky, 
as  some  of  the  men,  going  early  to  work,  recognized 
this  vanishing  spectre  on  the  river,  a  streak  of  flame, 
as  though  a  part  of  the  advancing  dawn.  They 
watched  the  onward  progress  of  the  frail  craft  and  its 
lonely  occupant  with  wonder  and  superstitious  awe, 
till  it  rounded  a  deep  bend  in  the  rushing  torrent  and 
was  lost  to  view.  The  top  of  the  red  turban  on  the 
erect  head  was  the  last  visible  object  in  the  passing 
of  this  unconquered  product  of  two  continents. 

For  long  years  to  come  in  the  falling  dusk  of  sum 
mer  evenings,  little  negroes  tumbling  on  the  sain  I  piles 
down  among  the  quarters  would  be  startled  into  sil 
ence  by  the  scream  of  some  lone  bird  amid  the  marsh 
es  far  up  the  river.  Running  to  their  mother,  with 
fearsome  faces,  they  would  whisper,  "Dat  Queen  Hul- 
dy!  Dat  Queen  Huldy!" 


HOLDING  THE  VISION 


THE    FOREST. 


HOLDING   THE  VISION 


I  dinna  forget — Lang  Syne 
Calls  thro'  the  vanished  years, 

Golden  her  smile,  and  bright, 
Touched  with  the  mist  of  tears. 

Trailing  forget-me-nots 

Down  by  the  meadow  streams, 
Far  thro'  the  twilight  hush, 

Bearing  my  cherished  dreams. 

Bravely  defying  Time, 

Fronting  the  sword  that  gleams, 
Holding  the  jewels  high, 

Saving  my  priceless  dreams. 

Dreams   with   the   diamond   point 
Chiselling  a-down  the  slow  years, 

These  make  me  the  soul  I  am, 
Composite,  aloof  from  fears. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

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